Paris, the "city of light" has many awakenings -- and taking time for tea is one of them.
Espresso is a slam-dunk (see next post) but tea is perhaps an acquired taste -- and an acquired pace. And Paris has a true tea culture. It can be lively as a cafe or a subtle reflective haven. I experienced both.
On a miserable spring morning, after standing in line fruitlessly for an art museum exhibit in the cold drizzle (the lines can be interminable whatever the weather), I gave up on Marie Antoinette at the Grand Palais for a Marie Antoinette restorative China tea at Laduree, the renowned tearoom at 16 rue Royale (8th), a merciful few blocks away in the Right Bank's Place Madeleine. Understandably, it was jammed, but accepting the first table in the less crowded upstairs was a smart move. I settled in to a banquette. Laduree, with several locations, is a mixture of a cafe (for tea) and a cake shop. During the emergence of cafes in Paris in the late 19th century, Laduree (founded in 1862) welcomed women, unlike the traditional cafes. Today it is also patissier, chocolatier, confiseur, restaurant and, iconically, salon de the.
Ironies of ironies, my eye lands on the Marie Antoinette -- a delicious China tea mixed with essential oils of subtle citrus fruit, flavors of rose and jasmine flowers, scattered with small pieces of dried fruits and honey. She -- and I -- at that moment in time never had it so good! Laduree is terrific people-watching. My banquette seat along the wall gave a view inside and out -- tourists and locals -- families and solos. Sitting in Second Empire decor, I experienced the modern world. And helped along by a raspberry macaroon.
The next day I was over on the Left Bank in the 6th and settled into one of the Mariage Freres tearooms, at 13 rue des Grands-Augustins. You have to know where you're going on the winding back streets of St. Germain des Pres to land here, nearby the famous restos of Jacques Cagna and Les Bouquinistes. I sat alone in the late afternoon with a myriad of choices, settling in simply with a full pot of "Afternoon Tea" for $12 (my own completely unhurried pot at a white-table clothed table where I could write and think for an hour). The shop downstairs has hundreds of teas from around the world.
"Un parfum d'aventure et de poesie s'evade a l'infini de chaque tasse de the," said founder Henri Mariage back in 1854. D'accord!
